


Jealousy loves company

by sweariwouldnt



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Jealousy, M/M, No Smut, Sexual References, Swearing, also in case you're a fan of turtlenecks - i'm sorry this story hates them, communication is good and good for you, mentions of stunts, non-au, this takes place in 2010 2012 2014 and 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 22:30:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11792826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweariwouldnt/pseuds/sweariwouldnt
Summary: How Harry and Louis work together throughout the years to try and keep the green-eyed monster at bay.





	Jealousy loves company

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my one anon who asked me about jealous Harry and Louis. It's a subject I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about - at least enough for a 10K fic, it seems. 
> 
> With the stunt talk, no names are mentioned and they're not talked in length, but they are important parts of a few discussions. Happy to tell more if that might concern you.

\---

**2010**

“What’s up, Grumpy?” Louis reaches out his hand, trying to ruffle Harry’s hair. 

“M’not grumpy,” Harry mutters grumpily as he turns his head away from Louis’ touch. 

“Riiight,” Louis drawls out, unconvinced, and sits down next to Harry on the sofa. 

Harry, without realising it, shuffles himself a bit further from Louis, not really wanting one part of his body to be touching him right now. Harry takes his beanie off and ruffles his own hair quickly, then putting the beanie back on – pulling it deeper than it was initially. 

Louis turns himself towards Harry and pokes his upper arm with his finger. 

“Leave me alone,” Harry mumbles as he swats Louis’ finger away and rubs the point where Louis had poked him, as if it had hurt. 

Louis pokes him again. 

“I’m serious, Louis, cut it out.” 

“Alright, Curly,” Louis lifts his hands up, “or more like Grumpy forever from now on. Not the ideal dwarf of choice.” 

“Whatever,” Harry grunts and pulls his beanie deeper, resolutely pulling his legs up to his chest and turning himself even further away from Louis. 

Louis looks at Harry, feeling puzzled. He’s not used to not making Harry laugh with cracking a joke when Harry’s sulking for whatever reason or feeling annoyed with him. Having his efforts of lightening up the mood met with defence is not what he’s used to. Harry is usually so lovely and happy, but sometimes he becomes so incredibly mopey. It’s still early days for them as a couple, and Louis feels insecure about how deep he should dig, how Harry wants to deal with these situations. He loves the sound of Harry’s laugh, loves it even more when he is the reason behind it, and cracking jokes is the go-to Louis Tomlinson approach to when he feels insecure. 

So he tries again. 

“I mean, you’re a pretty cute Dopey, a little bit Sleepy, I’ve seen you plenty Sneezy, and, as much as it baffles me considering how much you like to run around naked, you do have sides of Bashful but Grumpy? Not a great look.” 

“Why don’t you run over to find bloody Snow White, then?” Harry snaps. “If my dwarfness isn’t good enough for you. Go on, shoo.” He gestures blindly with his hand, still refusing to look in the general direction of Louis.

Louis mouth opens, flabbergasted, but he’s at a loss for words. 

“Or the handsome hunter. Since you seem to have a thing for beards,” Harry mutters so quietly Louis almost doesn’t hear him. 

But he does. 

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean, then?” 

Harry remains silent. 

“Oh Jesus Christ, Haz,” Louis huffs. “Now you’re giving me the silent treatment? Cool. Just great. Very mature.” 

Finally, Harry turns to look at Louis. With the way his eyes are narrowed and eyebrows furrowed – or so Louis guesses, as he can’t see it from under the beanie –Louis wishes Harry hadn’t turned to look at him. 

“I _am_ sixteen, Louis. I’m sure you’ll have no problems finding someone more mature, it’s not like you’re not actively trying,” Harry’s trying to go for a cold, nonchalant voice and it makes him sound even more venomous. 

Louis stares, mouth still hanging open, as Harry gets up from the sofa and walks over to Niall, who’s sitting on a chair and strumming his guitar. Louis watches as Harry sits down on the armrest and leans over to Niall; Louis watches them exchange a few words and then Harry laughs loudly, brightly. Louis is just sat there, wondering what the hell just happened. 

The concert that night blatantly sucks, at least for Louis. Harry is avoiding him at all causes and it immediately makes performing, and probably the world too, more boring and less colourful and a bit…empty. Louis loves singing and giving his all to the yelling fans, he can’t believe people still actually pay money to see the five of them act silly and sing a little – he can’t believe he’s actually up on stage and there’s hundreds of people in the audience who actually like them, came to see them, _him_. Some even have banners with his name written and hearts drawn. Louis is scared every time that he’s going to soon wake up in his bed, in his old room up in Doncaster and this would’ve all been a dream. That there was no X-Factor, he hadn’t met any of the other lads. 

And most importantly, he never would’ve met Harry. Harry who’s currently telling awful jokes and making everyone laugh, frolicking around the stage with Liam and pretending Louis doesn’t exist. Louis truly doesn’t get what he supposedly did wrong, and he’s especially bothered about how bothered he is about it. He and Harry had clicked magnificently since the very start, it had been like their brains had been separated at birth and now they were finally reunited. They seemed to finish each other’s sentences, have the same thoughts at the same time and, thank heavens, have the same feelings about each other. Louis feels almost out of tune, finding himself in a situation where someone who made more sense to him than anyone ever anywhere, suddenly didn’t. He and Harry are supposed to be the dream team, they have so much fun and it’s just… so good, being in a team of just them two. Louis isn’t an idiot, he knows this is probably the start of something very serious and probably long-term, something incredibly profound, but so far they’ve mostly been enjoying how sparkling and light it’s been. He’s just feeling a bit shocked to find that he’s not always able to read Harry after all. He’s annoyed that he is the reason behind Harry’s upset, especially when he has no idea why. 

After the gig, a minivan drives them to a hotel – a rundown Travelodge, as always – and Harry’s still not said a word to Louis. It feels like maybe the other lads have caught on that something’s off, judging by the side glances Louis has noticed throughout the night. They sign in on the reception with a receptionist who looks bored with both her life and her job, incredibly unimpressed by a group of teenagers from telly. Their handler picks up three key cards, giving one to Harry, one to Niall and one to Liam. Louis lets out a sigh of relief he hadn’t realised he’d been holding; at least their usual room pair-ups are still intact and he’ll get a chance to talk to Harry in private. 

They walk down the hallway on their floor, surrounded by walls and carpet with questionable looking stains. Liam and Zayn take the first room they pass, and Harry stops by the second door. Louis stills his steps as well, as Niall carries on towards the single room. 

“Niall, stop.” Harry says. “You’re sharing with me tonight. Give your key card to Louis.” 

Niall looks from Harry to Louis, eyes big, then shrugs and offers the key card to Louis - who doesn’t take it. 

“Are you serious?” Louis looks at Harry. 

“You heard me,” Harry says without facing Louis. “I’m sharing with Niall tonight.” 

“Uhm, do you want the…” Niall is waving the key card towards Louis unsure, biting his lip. 

Louis looks at Harry, who’s focused on opening the door resolutely, and then looks at the key card on Niall’s hand. He grabs the key card and at the same time, Harry’s forearm and pulls him towards the single room. He doesn’t look back at Niall, who again shrugs and picks up his and Harry’s bags from the floor and enters the room, shutting the door behind him. 

“Let go of me,” Harry yelps and tries to bury his feet on the ground, refusing to move. 

But Louis is more stubborn than Harry is balanced to stay still. 

“We need to talk.” 

“I don’t want to talk to you.” 

“Tough,” Louis grits as he stops in front of the last room reserved for them and opens the door, gesturing Harry to go in. 

Harry sits on the bed and crosses his arms, then his legs, and looks at the floor. “This is technically a kidnapping, you know.” 

“Well, you have been acting like a proper kid,” Louis says as he closes the door. “What gives?” 

“Nothing,” Harry grits through his teeth. 

“I think you’re lying. You’ve been weird all day and I don’t know why.” 

“No reason. Louis, honestly, I’m tired and I just want to go to bed,” Harry uncrosses his arms to rub his eyes. 

“You’re sitting on a bed. Feel free.” 

“Louis…” 

“No, Harry, I’m not… Clearly something is wrong and I don’t know what it is, what I’ve done. I need you to tell me so I can fix it.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Harry sighs. 

“Ha!” Louis blurts out and feels a bit shit right after. He’s not gloating per say, it’s not that he wants something to be wrong and for Harry to feel like shit, but at least Harry finally gave in that something is up. His body language is looking like he’s at least dropping some defences and might be willing to open up and getting this, whatever it is, sorted. Baby steps and that. “So there _is_ something wrong.” 

Harry gives him a bored look. “I’ve avoided you all day. Of course there’s _something_ wrong.”

Louis sits down on the bed, careful to leave some space between him and Harry. Harry doesn’t flinch, doesn’t stand up or leave. Louis reckons it’s a good sign.

“I want to get to the bottom of this, I honestly do, but I need you to give me a hand here, Haz.”

Harry remains silent, but at least he’s not spitting venom out. Encouraged, Louis continues.

“Like I honestly have no idea what’s going on. We had a good morning, really good if I say so myself, and the interview was fun, the guy was great, and then suddenly you went all…” Louis suddenly stops, realisation dawning to him. “Oh! Is that what this is?” He sounds cheerful, can’t help himself. 

Harry shrugs but still doesn’t say anything.

“It is! You’re _jealous_ ,” Louis says in an amused voice and pokes Harry’s thigh. “You’re actually _jealous_.” 

“You practically sat in his lap,” Harry finally mumbles and turns to look at Louis. He looks angry and a bit sad. “I could’ve left the room and you wouldn’t have noticed. Looked like you two needed a fucking room.” 

Louis is now fully unable to contain his glee. “I can’t believe you were actually jealous of me.” 

“How is this fucking funny to you?” Harry’s voice is raising slightly. “I don’t find anything about this funny.” 

“I just… You were fuming! Because you were jealous. It’s a bit funny, no?” 

“No, Lou,” Harry snaps. “It’s not funny at all. I felt like shit. You made me feel like shit.” 

Louis tried very hard to contain himself and pull a serious face. Harry’s moping throughout the day seems so ridiculous in so many ways now, but he’s trying to be serious about this as clearly Harry, for whatever reason, can’t yet seem to laugh about this. “Sorry, sorry love, wasn’t my intention. I didn’t… I wasn’t doing anything.” 

“You practically threw yourself at him.” 

“Oh come on,” Louis chuckles again, “I didn’t throw myself at him. You’re being ridiculous, Haz.” 

“Oh, is that so?” Harry huffs and crosses his arms again. “An immature and ridiculous kid, right? No wonder you are so keen to be all over older, handsome blokes.

Louis tuts. This isn’t really… They’re so not on the same page here at all. “I… Look. You need to calm down.”

“Oh is that so,” Harry starts with a mocking voice but Louis puts a finger on his lips. 

“Listen. I wasn’t throwing myself at him, at all, but I’m sorry if you felt that way. And yeh, you have been acting ridiculously today, but it doesn’t mean I think you are ridiculous. You should’ve just… I don’t know, told me and we could’ve had a laugh about it. There’s no reason to be jealous, Haz.” 

“Just don’t think there’s anything to laugh about.” 

“Come on, how would you feel if I went jealous on you?” Louis is trying to be reasonable. This feels like it’s their actual first argument, and it feels… Not nice, of course, he doesn’t want to fight with Harry. But there’s something… sort of good about it, too; realising that they are fighting about something silly because they are an item, an item that might fight and be jealous and it feels formative, somehow. 

Harry blinks and looks at Louis with an empty look. “You mean you… You don’t? Feel jealous about me?” 

Louis shrugs. “No, not really.” He knows there’s no reason to. He’s seen how jealous, mental almost, some of his friends and their girlfriends have been; calling after each other, going through their phones, wanting to know every little bit of their day and who they were with… And he doesn’t want to go there with Harry. He’s got quite a bit of trust in Harry, in them.

Harry raises his eyebrows and turns to look at the floor, whistling. “Alright. Right. I see.” 

Louis sighs, a bit louder this time. “What, is that wrong too then?” 

“No, I mean… If you don’t feel that, then you don’t.” Harry’s tone is back to trying to be light and hence sounding incredibly heavy and loaded. 

“What, you _want_ me to be jealous?” 

“Of course I do!” Harry shouts exasperatedly. “I want you to give a shit!” 

Louis closes his eyes, willing the world to stop for a second so he can catch up with it. “Okay, Harry,” he finally says and opens his eyes. Harry’s looking at him challengingly. “I honestly need you to help me out here, so I can understand.” 

“Not much to understand, is there? I’m jealous of you, which you find funny for some reason, and you’re not jealous of me. It’s quite obvious really, if you ask me.” 

“I’m asking you, then, because I genuinely don’t get this at all.” 

Harry looks at him for a long while, looking quite sad for some reason. “I guess I… I just care more. And like, I knew it was probably true, that this would happen, that you’d realise I’m actually really lame, and you could get anyone you want, and everyone loves you, and you’re so cool and…” Harry’s voice is starting to crack the longer he goes on, working himself into a proper frenzy. 

Louis shuts him up with a kiss, just smacking his lips onto Harry’s. It’s not to stop him from talking – he guesses he needs to hear this, and more importantly, Harry needs to say this. He just wants to stop Harry from getting so worked up, he gets so anxious sometimes and when he sets his mind on everything being awful, it’s quite scary, the depths that he can take himself into very quickly. 

“You need to calm down, love,” Louis whispers softly against Harry’s lips. “Take a few deep breaths.” He’s running his thumbs over Harry’s cheeks, as Harry nods and hiccups. “I’m sorry I laughed at you, I just… I can’t read your mind.”

Harry nods again, rubbings his nose as Louis withdraws himself from his face to allow some space to breathe, figuratively and literally.

“I don’t… Like, I guess I don’t get _not_ being jealous. It’s like, of course I’m a little jealous of you, and it just… makes me feel not important, I guess, hearing you say you’re not jealous of me.” Harry talks slowly, looking for his words. 

“I’m not… I mean, I know there’s no reason to. Like, I know…” Louis considers, “I _hope_ you’re not going to just up and leave me.” He’s quiet for a bit, feeling an unknown dread start to spread inside him. “Right?” 

Harry quickly leans to hug him. “No, no! Of course not! Never.” He sounds so sincere it sort of makes Louis feel high on feeling. “But, if you care that much, why don’t you… care about me? Of what I do?” 

Louis frowns. “What makes you think I don’t care?” 

“You just said. You’re not jealous of me, at all.” 

“That’s not… That’s got nothing to do with it?”

“Of course it does. How can you say you care about someone, especially if we’re supposed to be _together_ , if it’s all the same to you what I do?” 

“Because I trust you?” Louis emphasises the word trust. 

Harry looks a little stunned. “I’m not… I don’t mean that I don’t trust you, that’s not… I know you’d never pull some shit on me, I just…” Harry bites his lip. “I guess I’m just waiting, really, for when you realise how much better you could do.”

Louis lets out a chuckle and pulls Harry into an embrace with such force that Harry’s upper body falls on Louis’ lap, with Louis squeezing his arms around Harry’s head. “Oh Grumpy Curly. I could never do better than you. I’d never want to.” He kisses the top of Harry’s curls. “I just don’t want us to turn into like, crazy people. Checking phones and being obsessive about what we do and…”

“I don’t want that either,” Harry mumbles against Louis’ shirt, words muffled by the fabric of Louis’ shirt. “I’m not like, possessive or anything like, I trust you and I know… I just felt a little…” He doesn’t know how to continue. 

Louis gives Harry’s curls another kiss. “Insecure?” 

“Yeh,” comes out a quiet whisper. “I just think you’re amazing.” 

“Well good. Because I think you’re amazing.” 

“Good,” a small smile finally appears on Harry’s face. “I’m sorry, I guess, for being so… Well, for being a bit of a dick today.” 

“You’re forgiven.” 

“You were supposed to say I wasn’t being a dick.” 

“You were, a bit, though. And I was, too. Sorry I laughed at you.” 

“You’re forgiven,” Harry says and presses a kiss to Louis’s thigh that he’s resting his head to. “I’ll try to be less jealous.” 

Louis thinks for a bit, quietly petting Harry’s curls. “I guess it’s… Like, that’s how you feel, though there’s really no reason to. I just think we… Feels a bit strange, that we feel so differently about this.” 

“What do you mean?” Harry asks quietly. 

“Just that, I thought we can like, read each other’s minds or whatever. And it was a bit of a shock, I guess, realising that we can’t. Not with everything, at least.” Louis hears what he’s saying but he’s not sure if the words make any sense at all. 

“I get that. I think, it was a little bit the same for me. I was being so obvious and you didn’t get it and it felt like, maybe that’s why I got more pissed off, I felt like maybe you don’t get me after all. And you do, and I get you, it was just… Weird, knowing we have this _thing_ and suddenly it wasn’t enough. I felt like we were failing.”

“I don’t think it’s failing,” Louis ponders. “Just a good, reality check I guess, that it’s not enough to just… feel stuff. We need to actually work on it, make sure we’re on the same page. Not trust that we can always read each other’s minds.” 

Harry hums and then turns his face to Louis, cheeky expression on. “I bet I can read your mind right now though.” 

“Yeah?” Louis grins. “What am I thinking, then?” 

Harry leans his elbows on Louis’ thighs, reaching up to Louis mouth and gives him a deep, sweet kiss. 

“Yeah, think you got that right,” Louis says after fake consideration and throws himself back on the small bed, pulling Harry on top of him. 

The bed is small and it’s a tight fit, but they manage to not fall off as they cuddle in closer. 

**2012**

“You might think I’m not onto you,” Louis remarks as he’s stretching his neck in front of the mirror, trying to get a better look at the skin, “but I am totally onto you, Styles.” 

Harry cackles loudly and quite self-righteously. Louis can’t see him from the bathroom but he can vividly imagine Harry stretching on the hotel bed, scratching his stomach and looking rather proud of himself. 

Louis comes to the room to the exact image he’d envisioned, and throws himself on Harry. Harry’s skin feels so warm and the bedsheets feel, well, a little gross. 

“What do you have to say for yourself, hmm?” Louis raises a brow and boops Harry’s nose, feeling Harry’s hands cup his butt cheeks. 

“Pfft. I could’ve made it more visible. At least now you can still cover it,” Harry mutters as he turns his head to side, allowing Louis more access to suck on the skin above his collar bone. 

Louis lifts his head up and stares at Harry. “Cover it with what, exactly?”

“You know,” Harry presses Louis’ head back to his skin, ”a turtleneck maybe.” 

Louis lifts his head up again and rolls his eyes. “As if I’d ever wear a turtleneck. You very well know that.” 

“Guess you just have to flaunt it, then,” Harry smiles deviously. 

“Like that wasn’t your plan all along.” 

“What?” Harry tries to look innocent, utterly failing. “You know when the tough get going, the going might get tough, Lou. It’s a risk you willingly took. Sometimes hickies just happen to happen.” 

“Funny how they seem to happen especially when I’m about to, you know. Make an appearance.” 

“Funny how you’re acting like you don’t do the exact same thing to me. I’ve been to the great interwebs. I’ve seen pictures of my back, you know.” 

“Funny how you seem to think I haven’t seen that clip of you tapping my thigh in that interview.” 

Harry blows a raspberry on Louis’ shoulder. “Funny how you think repeatedly saying _funny how_ would make you somehow excluded of the fact that we both do possessive shit.” 

“Funny indeed,” Louis doesn’t look very amused as he gets up from on top of Harry and off the bed, starting to look for his clothes. “And I mean not funny at all, actually.” 

“Oh come on, Lou,” Harry huffs and turns to lay on his side, watching Louis get dressed. “What’s eating you now? I mean, I know what was eating you earlier but…” 

Louis throws a smelly sock at Harry’s direction, who catches it, sniffs it and laughs. 

“You’re disgusting. Gross.”

“You love it.” 

“I hate it.”

“You love me.” 

“I hate you. And I’m not possessive.” 

And there it is, Harry takes a deep breath. It’s like the acts of marking their territory, which they both own up to and even joke about, like they just did a few minutes ago, in themselves are fine – but at the very mention of actually being possessive, Louis seems to stiffen up and get defensive about it immediately. They’re used to being able to talk about everything; they’d realised early on that they _have to_ in order to make this work, not just relying on being in love and thinking that’ll forever be enough – they need to ensure they know how the other feels. Especially lately with things starting to happen, making it more difficult to spend as much time together as they’d like, with the unfortunate side of the music entertainment business starting to raise its uglier-than-before head. 

“We both are, Lou. It’s fine.” 

“It’s not fine!” Louis retorts. “Being possessive is like… acting crazy, it’s so unhealthy, and we’re not fucking unhealthy.” 

“Alright, calm down. No reason to lash out.” Harry sounds defensive and a little offended. “I didn’t mean it like that, you know that.” 

“I just don’t want… Like, just don’t use that word.”

“We both have huge hickies on our necks, Lou. Purposefully made to mark each other as ours before we go out and pretend we’re not. That’s a bit possessive, don’t you think?” 

“God, Harry,” Louis growls, “can you stop using that word!” He’s now knelt by his suitcase, frantically rummaging through it, probably looking for a shirt to cover his bare upper body. 

“Okay, sorry, I’m sorry.” Harry gets off the bed, picking up a grey t-shirt from the floor and offering it to Louis. 

Louis turns to look at Harry, taking the shirt. “Thanks,” he mutters as he puts it on. He looks at his phone and sighs heavily. “I need to go, I was supposed to meet her in the lobby like five minutes ago.” 

Harry lets out a muffled huff. “Don’t you think we should talk about this? You’re clearly pissed off.” 

“I don’t have time, Harry. I really need to go.” 

“I don’t want you to go when you’re annoyed with me.” 

Louis manages a small smile and kisses Harry’s forehead lightly. “I’m not annoyed with you. We’ll talk when I’m back. I really, really have to go now.” 

Harry pouts. “I hope you have a good day. I hope she has an awful day.” He pokes his finger on the bruised spot of skin on Louis’ neck.

Louis chuckles and closes the door behind him. 

Harry sighs, turning around and picking up a random shirt from Louis’ suitcase. He feels no shame in admitting he’s a little bit possessive, and wearing Louis’ clothes makes him feel… claimed, in a way. Like he’s wearing a symbol marking who his heart and soul belong to. Feeling Louis’ smell surround him and knowing that the fabric his skin is currently touching is the same fabric that touches Louis skin makes himself feel embraced, in a way; as if he’s still held by Louis, even when he’s not there. He lets himself feel a little bit salty with thinking how the pieces of clothing Louis’ public girlfriend wears are always washed with a long washing-up programme before and after she wears them, whereas Harry and Louis specifically share clothes with their scent left lingering on them. Feeling specifically devious, Harry takes a shower, uses Louis’ aftershave and puts Louis’ shirt on, ready to face his own charades for the day. Harry’s a lot of things but he’s not above some pettiness. 

Which is something he finds himself remembering and embracing later that day, as he’s scrolling on twitter and coming across pap pics from the day of his boyfriend and his paid companion who – Harry makes a gagging sound – is actually wearing a turtleneck. He calls his mum, who doesn’t seem to share the same fashion views as Harry. 

“I truly don’t understand this hate, Harry. They can be very warm in the winter.” 

“But they make you feel like you’re choking!” 

Anne laughs dryly on the other end. “For some reason I don’t quite buy your concern for her feeling uncomfortable, dear. What’s really going on?” 

Harry scratches his nose to play time, trying to form sentences in his head that wouldn’t make him sound like a petulant child. “I just… What do you think of jealousy?” 

“Jealousy? Is it a new band or something? 

Harry laughs. “Mum! Please. I mean the feeling. Actual jealousy.” 

“Ah,” Anne is probably nodding and contemplating for a while. “What… I’m sorry dear, I don’t understand. What should I think about it?” 

“Just… I mean, I guess, if being jealous is okay. Or more like, feeling possessive. If it’s always like, bad.” 

Anne’s quiet for a bit. “I think… Anyone’s able to feeling either, I think. They’re rather normal human emotions, really. I think the way your actions show the feeling, or how you show it in your actions, is what makes it… bad, or not bad.”

Harry hums, thinking. 

“Harry dear, is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, just… Lou’s being a bit weird about it all. He doesn’t get that…” 

“Harry, dear.” Anne interrupts him. “It’s not really me you should be telling this, talking about this.”

“I know,” Harry sighs. “He just doesn’t seem to want to.”

“Well, if it’s important to you, tell him that. Make him understand that you want to talk about it.” 

“But if he doesn’t care?” 

Anne actually laughs at this point. “It’s Louis you’re talking about it. He’ll care. Trust me.” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Harry. Give me one example, one time, when he didn’t do something he was reluctant on doing just because he knew you wanted to do it?” 

Harry can’t think of one. 

“See!” Anne sounds smug. “And he probably wants to talk about it himself, too, if it’s something that’s bothering him. You two will be just fine, you always are. I need to go now, the cats are causing a havoc, I think there’s a frog somewhere.” 

“Tell them I love them the most,” Harry rushes, “and remind them they love me the most!” 

“Of course, dear. Heavens forbid something in this world didn’t love you the most. Louis does at least, I’m certain. I’ll talk to you later.” She hangs up. 

Harry looks at the numbers on the screen; it’s almost six o’clock, so Louis should get back in the next half an hour. He orders them dinner from the room service, going for pizza as he figures that’ll still be edible even if they start talking immediately when Louis comes back and the dinner is left to get cold. He really doesn’t want to argue, but they do need to talk about this. He faffs around to kill time, trying to do a quick tidy up of the room, as they’re leaving tomorrow. Harry also manages to stop himself from checking twitter and seeing if there’s any more pictures from later floating around.

Louis arrives before the dinner. 

“Hey,” he says tentatively as he walks into the room. He kicks his shoes off and lets out a happy sigh, enjoying the feeling of taking his shoes off after a long day. “Oh! You’ll never guess what she wore,” Louis’ voice sounds like disgust. 

Harry’s laying on this stomach on the bed, and he can feel the mattress dip as Louis lays down next to him. 

“I saw,” Harry says as he leans in to give Louis a kiss on the cheek. “Eugh.” 

“I know, right. Where did you see?” 

“Twitter.” 

Louis makes a tutting sound and rests his head on the dip of Harry’s back, running his hand down his spine. “Haz… Why do you look for that stuff?” 

“I really don’t know,” Harry replies honestly. “To keep in check, maybe. I can’t pretend she doesn’t exist.” 

“I do. You should try it.” 

Harry makes a noncommittal sound. “I ordered pizza,” he then says. 

“Perfect. I’m just going to take a quick shower.” Louis yawns and gets off the bed, grabbing his towel and heading towards the bathroom. ”Like your shirt, by the way.” 

Harry has a feeling Louis might take his time in the shower, knowing they’re due for a proper talk, but he stops himself from calling after him or especially following him into the shower. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, but he knows Louis. Louis is so good with usually being in tune with Harry’s emotions, of understanding when to give him space and when to push gently in order to make whatever argument they’re due, happen. Harry doesn’t like arguing, and it has taken him a lot of practice to understand arguing doesn’t mean they’re failing each other or their relationship; he has always had a habit of shutting down and thinking that unaddressed problems don’t actually exist. Louis is very different from him in that sense, more used to letting his feelings run free and expressing even negative emotions without fear of it being something final. They’ve been learning how to argue together, in a way that makes it actually beneficial in overcoming their issues. Harry is forever thankful for how patient and caring and accepting Louis has been with his own, unhealthy at times coping mechanisms and he wants to give Louis the same – and it feels that right now, Louis needs to and relax, gather his thoughts alone, and Harry is fine with waiting. He doesn’t want to egg Louis onto feeling aggravated before they even get to the bottom of what’s currently bothering them. 

There’s a knock on the door; it’s the room service, carrying two pizzas and two cans of Pepsi Max. Harry’s just putting them down when Louis comes out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. 

“Smells amazing,” Louis says as he throws the towel onto a chair and pulls his flannel pajama pants on. 

“Do you, uhm, are you very hungry?” Harry asks uncertainly. “Do you want to eat now or…” 

“Depends. How hungry are you?” 

“I’m okay.” 

“Alright,” Louis nods. “Pizza’s fine cold, too. We can talk, first.” 

“Okay,” Harry says quietly, as if to prepare himself. He sits up, and watches Louis take a seat opposite him, sitting on the bed cross-legged. Harry takes his phone on his hand and opens it, tapping a few things.

“Can you please put your phone away when we’re having a discussion?” Louis groans. “Really not cool to keep staring at your phone when I’m talking to you.”

Harry looks ashamed and bites his lip. “I, it’s… It’s just a list of the things I wanted to say, to make sure I don’t forget anything that I need to say,” he hesitates but sees Louis’ expression soften. 

They look at each other for a little while, quietly. 

“I feel like…” 

“I think…” 

They start at the exact same time, both crack a soft smile, and Louis nudges Harry to go first. Harry’s surprised at Louis being so ready to say something already, and he wishes he would’ve just gone with it, but maybe it feels safer for Louis to hear what Harry has to say first. Harry takes a deep breath.

“I feel a bit…confused, I guess, about how we both do… things, as much as we can, to like, mark each other or, I don’t know. Show we belong to each other. Like it’s fine when we do that stuff, but then when I mention it, you seem to… withdraw, or get angry, and I don’t really understand why?” 

“It’s not really… Like, I don’t mind the things we do, like you said we both do them. What bothers me is how you talk about that stuff.” 

Harry frowns. “But, it’s what happens? So I don’t get why talking about it is bad? We both know we’re a bit possessive over each other, and we’re fine with…”

Louis’ groan interrupts Harry. 

“See, you’re doing it again!”

“Doing what?”

“Using that word! I asked you to not say we’re possessive.”

Harry looks at Louis, feeling confused and lost, until suddenly it dawns to him. “Is it… the word? That’s the problem?” 

Louis looks down, picking his fingernails. “I guess. It just sounds so… bad. And I don’t think we’re bad, but every time you say it, it just…” He sighs and glances at Harry quickly. “Makes me feel like we’re not good. That our relationship isn’t good. That it’s unhealthy, that it’s just what they keep telling us.” 

“But we’re not, we’re so good.” 

“I _know_ we are, but when you say stuff like that, it just sounds…. Look, Haz,” Louis runs his hand through his hair. “I’ve seen people act really fucking crazy because they are so jealous. Trying to control each other, losing their minds in starting to think things, going through phones, following their partner to make sure they’re not cheating and… It gets so obsessive, thinking you own the other person and…”

Harry touches Louis’ knee softly and leaves is and there. “Is this… Is this about what went down with your dad?”

Louis nods. “And some friends, like Oli was seeing this girl who was completely bonkers and it just… Like I don’t tell you how to dress or who to see and when, who you can be friends with, and I wouldn’t ever want you to do that to me.”

“I’d never!” Harry looks shocked. “Okay. That’s… definitely not what I mean, what I think we are like when I’ve said that. I guess to me, it’s more about… Like belonging to you, you belonging to me. And not in a crazy way, but just… I mean, I _am_ yours but it’s not like, as if I don’t belong to myself anymore at all. And I do consider you as mine, but not like, not my property or anything but you’re just… a part of me. If that makes sense?” 

Louis doesn’t answer right away, he’s weighing Harry’s words. Finally, he nods. “Yeh. It makes sense. And I do feel the same, about you, it’s not… It’s not like I think you’ve done or been wrong. I just get a bit… anxious about the word, I guess.”

“Maybe we can redefine it? For us? Like, I’ll stop using it of course, but if it ever slips… Just make it our own.” Harry suggests gently.

Harry scoots next to Louis, huddles close and opens the browser on his phone. He goes to the dictionary, taps in ‘possessive’. 

“ _Demanding someone’s total love or attention_ ,” Harry reads and harumphs. “That does sound quite awful. I don’t feel like that, when I get… you know.”

“I don’t either. Like, I’m not making demands, it’s more that I… want the love and attention. Wish I could have it.” 

“Exactly!” Harry’s eyes lit up. “I want your love and I want to give it back. And wish the whole world could know it, too.”

“Yeah,” Louis nods slowly, “that’s… that’s how I feel, too.” 

Harry hugs Louis, and they stay like that, in a tight embrace, when Harry continues. “I think it’s a part of why I look at pictures of you, and her, too.” 

“What is?” Louis kisses Harry’s shoulder. 

“Kind of… I mean, it’s dumb, and unnecessary, but I just sort of… need to see you don’t look at her like you look at me.”

“I barely ever look at her,” Louis laughs lowly. 

Harry squeezes Louis tighter. “I know. It makes me happy.” 

“You’re so petty.” 

“You love it.” 

“I do. And I do love you.”

“I love you, too. A lot. Very much.” Harry presses his lips to Louis’, keeping the kiss sweet and soft, no reason for it other than to just kiss his boyfriend who he loves. 

“I also do love pizza. I’m starving.” 

“Yeh, let’s eat,” Harry leans over Louis to grab the pizza boxes.

“Good talk,” Louis is offering his fist for Harry to bump as he takes the pizza with his other hand. It’s their tradition, repeated after every big conversation they have, where they feel like they worked as a united front, trying to understand each other and be honest about things, working together for their relationship. It’s sort of a symbol for a ‘yeah, we did well, we’ve got this, good job partner’ and to mark that this is now dealt with, all is good. 

Harry bumps Louis’ fist. “Good talk.” 

**2014**

“Good night tonight?” 

Harry startles at the sound of Louis’ voice coming from somewhere in their dark home, as he’s trying to open the door and come home very quietly so to not wake Louis up.

“What are you still doing up?” Harry follows the voice to the living room, slumping down on one of the chairs and pulling his boots off. “You need to get up in a few hours.” 

“Couldn’t sleep. So, good night tonight?”

“Yeah, it was fun. The band was amazing.” 

Louis nods. “You seemed to enjoy yourself. Quite a bit, actually.”

“Uhm…” Harry hesitates, unsure of what’s going on. “Yeah, I had fun.”

“Good. I’m glad.” 

“Did you have a good night?”

“Was great. Sitting at home, staring at a wall, seeing things.”

“What’s… Lou, is everything alright?” 

“Yup,” Louis pops the p. “Everything is brilliant. You’re brilliant, band is brilliant, she is brilliant…” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Harry snorts, disbelievingly. 

“Not as much as you. Kidding around, having a right laugh. Proper charming, you two.” 

“What the hell, Lou?” 

“Your pictures are already online, Harry. Pics of you and her. Looking really fucking cozy, I must say. Her arms all over you.”

“What do you expect me to do? I’m not going to be a cunt to her.” 

Louis rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say you need to be a cunt to her. I’m sure she’s a wonderful girl. You don’t need to look so fucking happy doing it, though.” 

“I seriously doubt I look _fucking happy_. She was nice, yeah. We hit it off and it wasn’t as bloody boring and awkward as it usually is.”

“How lovely.” 

“Jesus, Lou. It’s not… You’re being such a bellend right now.” 

“Funny, cocks would be something you used to enjoy.” 

Harry stares at him, open mouthed. He gets up from the chair and walks towards the door. “I don’t even know what to say to you, you’re being absolutely impossible right now.” 

Louis stays seated, staring at the wall in the dark living room resolutely, refusing to budge – he can hear Harry’s steps in the distance, then a silence as they stop, and then the steps are getting louder again as Harry predictably comes back to the living room. 

“You know what, no. I’m not going to go to bed and let you sulk here. You are going away in a few hours, off for days, with _your_ girlfriend, on a romantic holiday, and you don’t have the fucking right to have a go at me for having one night of work that wasn’t an absolute nightmare.” 

Harry stands next to the sofa, arms crossed as he’s looking down at Louis sitting on the sofa, drumming the arm rest with his fingers. 

“Ah, right, because I’m going to have so much fucking fun!” 

“You _will_ have some fun, you always do. Your mates are coming, too, and you’ll go and you’ll have a good time and then you’ll come back.” 

“And what are you going to do in the meantime, then? Have a few more dates with her and have fun and _flirt_.”

Harry lets out a dry laugh, feeling exasperated. “I’m not going to be _flirting_ with her.” 

“Sure looked like flirting tonight,” Louis grits through his teeth. 

“You’ve flirted your way through years with her.” 

“Oh bugger off. I’ve never flirted with her, not once.” 

“You’ve flirted just as much as I’ve flirted with her tonight!” 

“So what, now you are admitting to it?” 

“No, _you_ are admitting to it if you think I’m admitting to it!” 

“This is ridiculous, I’m not going to listen to this nonsense,” Louis mumbles under his breath and gets up from the sofa, heading to the bedroom upstairs. 

Harry is, of course, walking behind him and yapping away. “You started this, you’re the one being ridiculous here. You don’t get to pick a fight if you’re just going to walk away, and then soon you’ll fly away, and then you’ll be so cross with me you’ll be all happy and smiley in all the pictures with her, and it’s _not fair_.” 

“No, I agree, it’s not fucking fair. Not many things about our life is fair.” 

They go to their bathroom and start brushing their teeth. 

“You’re not being fair to me at all,” Harry mumbles through brushing his teeth. 

“You’re not being fair to me, H. You had one good night with someone you clearly don’t have an issue with and I need to spend a week away somewhere…” Louis stops to spit out the foam. 

“Somewhere beautiful, and sunny, and with your mates there. Another place where you are going, making memories that I have no place in. She’s right where I should be.” Harry spits out as well, splashing water on his face and drying his face to a towel. 

“I’ll show you pictures, I’ll tell you everything like I always try to, but you never want to hear.” 

“No, of course I don’t want to hear about the part of your life and memories that I’m not included in.” 

“It’s not… You’re included in everything that matters, you know that.” Louis turns the lights off as they’re done with their nightly routine and closes the bathroom door behind him. “And you do it, too. I wanted to go out with you today, and I couldn’t, instead I’m stuck here looking at pictures of you and some skinny model looking so fucking happy. The new dream couple, they called you.” 

Harry’s finally managed to squeeze himself out of his skinny jeans and is now huddled up under his duvet, naked as usual. “Pretty sure I didn’t look happy. I just didn’t look like I wanted to die.” 

“Big difference,” Louis snorts. He’s so fucking tired, he has to get up in less than four hours, and he isn’t going to lie and say seeing the pictures of Harry and whatsherface looking at each other comfortably – as if they were a couple – didn’t first make him a bit sad and then quite a bit mad. 

“What, so now my face is wrong?” Harry’s sitting up again. He’s staring at Louis, challengingly. 

Louis honestly just wants to turn his back to Harry and fall asleep, but he’s not quite that childish. Not tonight, at least. Plus there’s no mute button to Harry. 

“Your face is fine. It’s a great face. The greatest, really. I just… I just don’t want anyone else to think so, too. It’s my face.” 

Louis sees Harry bite his lips and he is the most infuriating person Louis has ever known, making Louis, who maybe has or hasn’t got any reason to be pissed but feels so annoyed regardless, feel endeared. 

“Don’t worry, Lou. I didn’t give her my face. Nor am I planning to. I mean, it is your face.” 

“Good. And no other parts of you, either. Can’t give her any of those.” 

“None for her. All for Lou,” Harry reaches out tentatively to brush off a wild strand of hair off Louis’ face. 

Louis lets him. 

“I’m… Look, I’m sorry if I made you feel, insecure or, like I was doing you wrong tonight. I really wasn’t. She was nice and I got along with her, and I’m not going to treat people like shit. I’m not like that, you know this.” 

“I know,” Louis admits. “”I think sometimes you just… give out the wrong impression, to other people. Being so nice to everyone.” 

“I’m not going to stop being nice to people who are nice to me, to us.”

“I know, and you shouldn’t, and I’m not asking you to. I think you… we both, really, should maybe just be a little bit aware of it. Of how we are.” 

“We’re brilliant?” Harry frowns at Louis. “Everyone loves us. And, I mean, we know each other and we know what we’re like and I don’t… I’d never thought the way I am as a person would be a problem to you.”

Louis rubs his eyes. “It’s not, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, I’m not… I don’t want you to be anything else than what you are, you’re so lovely. It’s not, I think, I’m just…” 

“I know,” Harry says softer. “It’s not easy, always. I’ve been there.” 

And they both know that they are both very warm people, very likeable in their natural way of being. They are tender and sweet in the way they connect to the world and people around them. Everyone who comes across to have a chat with Harry, usually ends up thinking he was falling in love with them as they spoke; there’s a sort of intensity about Harry and how much the truly seems to concentrate on every person he meets – makes them feel like they’re the centre of his universe at that very moment. And Louis, he himself knows he drops pet names left and right to anyone he meets, his personality is naturally a bit cheeky. He doesn’t ever want to use it to his advantage or purposefully make Harry jealous, or to lead anyone on. He knows for sure Harry agrees on the latter, but at least in the past, Harry hasn’t been above occasionally, very light-heartedly, flirting in front of Louis and sending his head spiralling. It usually resulted in excellently passionate sex, almost like a ritual of reclaiming. If pressed, Louis could admit – twist his arm – to having done the same. 

“Yeah,” Louis sighs and reaches out to trace the moth tattoo’s outlines on Harry’s stomach with his fingertips. “I guess I… maybe, a tad, overreacted. I just… I wanted to be there with you. I wanted to have a fun night with you. It’s like… everyone else gets a piece of you but me.” 

“You get me the most though, honey,” Harry says quietly, his voice soft like a caress. “But I know what you mean. She gets to be with you and do things with you and, everyone could be with you but me. I just… want that time with you. Bloody hell, I’m not even allowed to, like, look at you, and then half of the world is allowed to do anything they want.” 

“I’m so jealous of them,” Louis whispers to Harry as if admitting to some scandalous crime. “Everyone can be with you. Everyone gets to be with you. And it’s all away from me.”

It hasn’t been easy on them lately. Or for a long time, actually. It hasn’t really been them that is the problem, but the environment and situation they’ve had to deal with has been overwhelmingly straining. Harry has tried his hardest to stop looking at any pap pictures, not because he’s suddenly less petty or gleeful, but because Louis looks more sad and tired, and it breaks Harry’s heart. He has also stopped checking up any headlines or comments on himself, because he has found himself shocked at how utterly nasty and awful people can be about someone they know nothing about. Harry’s way of coping has been building up a role, almost a costume he puts on when he leaves for work; things people say can’t hurt him anymore as it’s not the real him. Or so the rationalises and tries to think, and Louis reminds him when he doesn’t believe it himself anymore. 

“I guess we just… Need to spend more time together.” 

“We spend all the time together that we can.” 

“Maybe it’s not enough,” Harry winks. “You know what they say, how to cure jealousy.” 

“What do they say? Not that I know who this they is and how credible they are.” 

“They,” Harry looks at Louis pointedly, “say that jealousy loves company. So jealousy gets easier if the person you’re jealous of keeps you company.” 

“Babe, I… I’m pretty sure it’s misery that loves company. Not jealousy. And it doesn’t really mean…” 

“I think you’re maybe wrong,” Harry snuggles in closer to Louis and presses his cheek against Louis’ warm skin, rubbing their cheeks together. “Like you were today. I wasn’t flirting with the pretty girl. You’re the only one I flirt with.” 

“You’re the only one I flirt with, too.” 

“Uh-oh,” Harry shakes his head. “I’ve seen you surf. I can vouch you have also flirted with death.” 

Louis snickers and draws a big heart on Harry’s lower back with his finger. “I wasn’t… I don’t think I was really jealous of her, you know. It’s more of the… situation.” 

“I know,” Harry mutters, sounding very tired. “I’m not jealous of your miss thing, either, just about the… time she gets with you. She gets to touch your skin and be outside with you and do the things we should be able to do.” 

“We will, love. I’m sorry I haven’t really been… honest, I guess, about how I’ve felt about all of this. And then it just escalated and… I should’ve spoken with you.” 

“I should’ve spoken with you, too. Guess we forgot, somewhere along the line.” 

And it’s true, Louis knows. He should’ve spoken with Harry; Harry should’ve spoken with him. They’ve both been so aware, from early on, that having the deepest feelings and best intentions wasn’t quite enough, that they had to constantly keep working for the everyday life of that love. It wasn’t enough to have one big talk years ago and assume it was all that was needed; they constantly had to update themselves and each other on how they were feeling, how they were coping with the changing situations and events surrounding them. Louis didn’t want to forget ever again how important, crucial even, it was for him and Harry to communicate openly and vulnerably.

Harry wakes up with Louis in a few hours’ time, making them both cups of coffee. He looks delicious with his hair a mess from sleeping, his eyes still drooping from sleep, and his bath robe making him look even more soft, warm and cuddly than he usually is. Louis reckons he probably feels quite a bit of good-possessive – their possessive – about Harry. 

**2016**

“You were amazing today, love,” Louis tells Harry as he’s washing his hair. “Had the whole room wrapped around your finger.”

Harry hums, followed by a blissed out moan as Louis rubs his scalp with more pressure. 

“Kept looking at how everyone was falling in love with you. As they should. I look at you and you are so lovely and everyone could see it, and I’m just so proud every time I look at you and know you chose me.”

“They fell in love with you, too,” Harry says slowly as he’s letting Louis turn his head, completely relaxed under Louis’ fingers. “So proud of you, Lou, always. So proud to be with you. To look at you and know I’m yours.” 

“I’m very proud of who I’m with, too,” Louis kisses Harry’s neck and gets a bit of shampoo on his mouth. “You’re the loveliest.” 

“Incorrect,” Harry hums. “ _You_ are the loveliest.” 

“Who says?” 

“Everyone.” 

“You’re lying.” 

“What? How dare you make such accusations!” 

“Everyone can’t possible say that, because I don’t say that, and if I’m missing, it’s not everyone.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” Harry chuckles as Louis nudges his head to bend it back, about to rinse his hair. 

“So you keep saying. Now close your eyes,” Louis tells Harry as he moves the showerhead over Harry’s hair. 

After the shower, they lay down like starfishes on their bed. It’s been so bloody hot for the past few days; they’ve got the fan on full but it still feels like the shower was no use, they’re drenched again already. 

“I, uhm…” Harry starts off hesitantly. 

Louis turns to look at him. “What’s up, Curly?” 

“My hair isn’t going to be that curly for long anymore, you know,” Harry chuckles.

“Better make the most of it while it lasts then. And I’m not going to change what I call you. I mean, I call you Grumpy even when you’re happy enough. I’m an old dog, love. I can’t learn new tricks or new nicknames.” 

“That makes perfect sense, then.” Harry nods. He waits for a bit, watching Louis blow air on his arms that he’s raised up, trying to cool the skin down. “Listen, Lou. I think I need to talk about something.” 

“Is this like a proper big talk or like what we’re going to get the twins for their birthday -kind of talk?” 

“A big talk, I think. And apparently, Doris wants a unicorn and Ernie wants a crocodile.”

“Alright and sounds doable,” Louis turns to face. 

Harry stays quiet for a while, looking for his words. He hates how he still finds it so hard sometimes, first admitting to himself that he’s feeling things he’s not proud of, that he would’ve thought he’d gotten over already during all these years. Then, after understanding what he’s feeling and why, finding the courage to talk about them to Louis – not that he’d shy away from a fight, or he’d be afraid of them breaking up, it’s just… Being so vulnerable and open and honest, it’s so scary sometimes to push these things out of his mouth and talk about how he really feels, what’s going on in his head and heart, being so naked in front of another person. Even if it’s the one person he trusts with everything and adores to the moon and back and ten times around the sun.

“Take your time, love. I’m here.” 

“I think I’m… struggling a bit, again,” Harry starts slowly. 

“With what?” 

“Like, dealing with… With, how much you’re away.” Harry hopes Louis understands what he means. Somehow saying bluntly what he means sounds so stupid and childish and unjust even in his own head. 

“I haven’t been away that much?” Louis questions. “Well, yet, at least,” he adds an afterthought, sounding rather sad. 

“No, I mean… You know.” 

“I don’t really. Can’t read your mind, love.” 

Harry inhales deeply and lets his breath out. “I mean, with like… Being away with, you know. Her. I’m finding it hard to… It’s relentless, it’s everywhere, and I… Just find it quite hard, right now.” 

“Okaay,” Louis drawls out the word quietly. “I’m sorry to hear that. What would you like me to do about it?” 

“It’s not that, come on, I know you can’t do anything about it, I just… Needed to say it. It’s been quite, like, hard.”

“Is that why you’ve been so off lately?” 

“Maybe,” Harry hesitates but then decides there’s no need. “Yeh. And I know it’s not your fault, and I know I’m being a bit silly and there’s no need to be jealous, I just… Can’t help feeling a little lonely. When you’re away.”

Louis listens, looking intently at Harry. He knows better than to say anything right now; he knows Harry takes a while longer than he does to come open with what he’s feeling, tends to bottle things up. And when he finally starts, it’s like a floodgate opens, and Louis just wants Harry to be able to get it all out; for Harry to know that he’s listening, that he cares about every single little thing Harry feels. 

“And it’s not really her, she seems nice enough, or you, I know you’re not going to be awful towards her, that’s not who you are, I just… Sometimes, seeing you two together, I feel like there’s a beast inside me that just wakes up and growls, or howls, and I don’t know how to shut it up. And, fuck, it’s not that I don’t trust you or anything, of course I do, I know we’re good, I just…”

“God Lou, I’m so sorry, I’m being so selfish here. I know I did the same shit not too long ago, and I know it must’ve sucked for you, I just… It’s been years, and I just want us to be on a damn yacht, us to hold hands and look loved-up and… I just want us to be able to be all that.” 

Harry finally lets out a breath as if he’d been holding it in the whole time, and looks at Louis uncertainly. He’s feeling quite shit, really, having poured all that out and sounding so selfish – he knows none of this is Louis’ fault. He just feels like his emotions sometimes almost suffocate him, and drag him down into dark pits that he struggles to get back to fresh air from. 

“I don’t… There’s never a need to say you’re sorry for telling me how you feel. I’ll never not want to know what you’re thinking or feeling,” Louis starts with a gentle tone. “But you’re right, there isn’t anything I can do about this. I just… Keep on telling you how much I love you, I guess.” 

“I love you too, so much,” Harry cups Louis’ cheek and kisses him. “Thanks for letting me whine. Thanks for being so good to me.” 

“Feeling a bit better? Letting it all out?” 

“Yeah, yeah I am. I don’t want you to make you feel, guilty or shit or anything, though. It wasn’t my intention.” 

“I know. I’m not. It’s not really, being mad at you or you being mad with me, I just… It’s shit. Honestly, that’s what it is, and we know it. And there’s nothing we can do to change it, so we just need to… Deal with it.” 

Harry bites his lip, running his thumb across Louis’ eyebrows. “Yeah, you’re right. We just need to take it for what it is. Temporary. Work. Something that we can choose to not let it get to us. Much, at least.”

“As little as possible,” Louis nudges his nose against Harry’s. 

It’s so difficult sometimes, forcing himself to be vulnerable and say what he really feels and means, but Harry loves the feeling that comes after. The feeling of relief of having done that, taking the plunge and getting back to surface together; being even closer than ever before, and the deep intimacy he feels to Louis. As if they’re even tighter knit together than before, as if these talks are glue that brings them a little bit closer again, even though they are already so incredibly close, Harry sometimes feels surprised at remembering they’re actually two separate parts of the same whole. 

“Maybe you should write about this?” Louis suggest after a while, combing Harry’s hair with his fingers. “Let it all out. Yell a bit. Remember how good you felt about Happily?”

Harry muses Louis’ suggestion, and then starts smiling. “Yeah, you’re right. Maybe I will.”

They settle closer together for a moment, until Harry turns so Louis can spoon him, make him feel surrounded by love. Harry can feel the howling beast inside him grow smaller. They’ve got this, and they’ll keep having it right.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing this. Kudos and comments make my day x


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